***
Kiethara reentered her clearing with a smug smile still dancing on her face, a feeling of refreshment radiating off of her. She wrung out her dripping robe and hung it on a branch.
She looked over at her other possessions, a sword and a couple of glass bottles. She would put them on later, as soon as she accomplished some of the physical training Aaron continued to badger her about. There was no way she could do pull-ups with the sword around her waist. She could barely lift it above her head.
She had only done seven when a voice rang out behind her.
“You see, Markii, I did not exaggerate! Of course, I had not expected to walk in on this, exactly, but it does nothing but prove my point! Not to mention, I can see she has a sword now. Our tribe has a much higher opinion of women than the kingdoms, but this just goes up and beyond!
“Oh, and see there, near her sword is her vine of potions. That silver one is mighty rare; it takes a lot of power to make something like that. You want to know what it does? It heals any external injury, in just the matter of a few seconds! But I didn’t bring you here to lecture you about potions, now did I?”
Durga’s voice finally silenced. Her words had flown out so fast that Kiethara was barely able to drop to the ground and turn around by the time she finished.
Durga’s piercing gaze was the first thing she saw. The old woman had not changed much since their last encounter. In fact, she even held the same bottles in her hand, no doubt to make some more potions. The only difference in her appearance was the young man that stood beside her.
He looked to be a few years old than she was. His skin was just a shade darker than Sinsenta’s, but, in comparison, his black hair was very short. He had broad shoulders that were held stiff, a taunt jaw, and flexed muscles. On his back was a sword.
A dark blue, almost black shirt fitted his torso. A belt—made of brown leather—wrapped around his waist and across his chest, securing his weapon, while baggy, dark pants hid the tight brown boots upon his feet.
His most alarming feature, however, was his eyes.
They were gray. Nothing terribly rare or exceedingly flamboyant. In fact, not one thing about him gave the expression of flamboyancy. No emotion showed in his eyes, no feelings were portrayed in his features. It was not as though he were struggling to hide it, though; it was as though the emotions were never there to begin with. He did not look bored, curious, or anything of the sort. He looked as though he were guarding something.
He was controlled.
“I believe not,” he said, answering Durga’s question. His voice matched the rest of him. Void of anything that could betray him.
“Look at her, standing there so shocked! It’s not as though she’s never seen me before! Ah, but she has never seen you, and we did barge in on her. I didn’t know what to expect returning to this place again, but I’m already having fun! Hah!
“Now, we did interrupt her, so maybe we should give her a minute. Although technically, she interrupted me last time, so one would say I’m only returning the favor. Reminds me of a time my one son barged in on Zyna in her father’s tent. I was surprised the boy wasn’t skinned alive, but I got him out of it. He still owes me for life, that man does.
“Ah, I’m rambling now. Let me introduce you to the guardian, Kiethara. Kiethara, this here is Markii.”
Markii nodded in her direction, but his eyes were sweeping the surrounding trees. Careful, observant.
“H-Hello,” she stuttered. She was scrambling to remember the conversation she and Durga had had. It seemed so long ago, almost like a dream.
“Been a while, hasn’t it?” Durga asked, as though she could read her thoughts. “Well over two months. Winter seems to have finally arrived, unfortunately. Beware, for a storm is brewing to the northeast. Of course, I forgot with whom I am speaking to. I am sure you have your own unique ways to deal with these harsh times?”
“Not particularly,” she replied, desperately trying to keep up with Durga’s quick tongue. “Winter is a hard time for me as well. Frozen lakes and snow storms aren’t very enjoyable here in the forest.”
Durga walked forward, Markii trailing behind her silently. The old woman’s small, watery eyes scrutinized her, making Kiethara slightly uncomfortable, though she did not avert her own gaze. Markii’s eyes were still sweeping the area surrounding them with an intensity that made her feel rather small. It was as though he expected an army to emerge out of the trees. And something told her that if one had, he wouldn’t hesitate to use that sword of his.
“You don’t look well,” Durga commented. “You’re covered in bruises and you look like you’ve received a beating, but that’s not all. It might have been a while since our first encounter, but there is something different about you…I just can’t put my finger on it. It’s as though you have an enlightened look to your eyes—which are beautiful, by the way—and I can see that you have gained much in our time apart, besides height. I hate feeling short, but it can’t be helped when I hang around youngsters. I bring it on myself.
“Enough of this! Now, tell us what you’ve been up to.”
Kiethara bit her lip. Should she tell them? Durga had posed no threat to her, but this man Markii seemed a bit intimidating.
“I realized that I have more enemies than I first thought,” she said slowly, hoping she had said enough but not given away anything too useful.
Durga’s eyes narrowed exactly as they had when she had warned her about Gandador. Durga took all threats seriously, and it seemed Markii did too, for his restless eyes finally settled intently on her face.
“Who might they be?” she asked.
“Four men from Nikkoi, but none of them can use magic,” Kiethara paused for a moment. “They have this jewel that can render opponents incapable of using any power besides their fists. Even then, you can’t fight for long.”
Kiethara turned around and walked towards the trees supporting her hammock, letting her guests digest what she had said. She slipped on her sword and her vine of bottles before turning around to see Durga staring at the ground and Markii’s unnerving gaze focusing on her every move.
“And you’ve been confronted by these men?” Durga asked, looking up.
Kiethara chewed over her words carefully. The recent events had led her to be more cautious, which surprised her, for she usually threw everything to the wind and prayed for the best.
“Yes, I have.”
Durga raised an eyebrow at the lack of information, but she made no more comments on the matter.
“Any more news on Gandador, child? The last thing you left me with was a cryptic warning and some concern for my well-being! Don’t get me wrong, I was glad you told me, even if the news angered me a little. Such heart behind your words! When you decide to be serious, my goodness, do you put a chill in my bones. As you are right now! Every word you’ve spoken has been drenched in caution and now you have armed yourself with that shiny new weapon of yours despite the fact that your company means you no harm.
“It’s a great contrast to your last appearance. Then, if I may say so, you were openly surprised, curious, and relaxed. Now you are restrained, although not entirely, my dear. No offense, but concealing your emotions is not one of your strong points. Your transparency leads to your charm, though.”
Kiethara couldn’t hold back the smile that split her solemn face; Durga had always amused her. She had just come at the wrong time. Kiethara was sore and irritable from training. Durga’s presence was reminding her of times that she was trying to forget; however, she had always felt that Durga had a right to know…
“Now that wasn’t too terrible, was it? You need to relax and, after you do that, you can explain. Our tribe takes any threats against it very seriously. We need to know of all enemies that have the potential to become a menace. A threat to the guardian of the forest is a threat to us as well.”
Kiethara nodded, her eyes flickering to Markii. Their gaze met, and his gray eyes bore into hers. She
looked away fast, cheeks reddening.
Kiethara then took a deep breath, feeling as though she were sacrificing some part of herself for these two. How many times could she bear to repeat the words before it would be impossible to forget them? She had woven it into a tale by now, one that they could easily take back with them and tell over a blazing fire to a group of frightened children, regaling them with the tales of the foolish guardian trapped in another word. That image in mind, she launched into her explanation of the events that had come to pass. She stopped her story after her escape from the four men, making it seem that she had returned directly to the forest. The rest of the story, despite its significance to her, was not important to them.
Durga’s eyes got narrower and narrower as her story went on, but Markii’s expression did not change. Kiethara wondered if he had ever used another expression before in his life.
When she was done, the two of them stood in silence. But nothing could silence Durga for long.
“I no longer have a reason to call you a child now, I’m afraid. You have been through quite an ordeal”—Durga didn’t know the half of it, literally—“and I thank you for telling us this. We will be on our guard for these four men.
“Times are changing, or have been changing, whichever you prefer. The people out there are split into two groups now: one group wants nothing to do with magic and the other is filled with greed at the sight of it. Such extremes! Very few can find the balance between the two. The legends of the guardians are slowly fading into myths and there is more division between the kingdoms than ever before. What can this mean? Views, morals, and motives are changing while tradition is slipping away. Why is this? I do not think we can blame one man for what is happening, though we would all like to hold Gandador accountable. I think a fear has taken root, a fear whose roots are creating cracks in the foundation. Fear has either inspired people to shut the magic from their homes completely, or it had inspired people to take as much as they can while they can and misuse it. Many people have realized that the power here is too much to control and, with one too many people having seen its effects, I think it’s safe to say that they are scared. Even now, we walk into the forest and are overwhelmed by the air—so pure it is almost heavy. Who can cope with this? You, the guardian, are the only one who can.”
Kiethara was lost for words, her mouth hanging open in a most unbecoming way. Of course, Durga was not.
“Hah! Such heavy words for a few companions! Shall we lighten the mood? I need to go brew up a potion. Dull work that no one needs to sit and watch me do. You two, stay here. I’ll be back momentarily.”
Durga sauntered off surprisingly fast for a woman of her age. Her bottles clinked together in her hands, creating an eerie sound long after she had disappeared into the trees.
Kiethara turned to Markii, who was staring after Durga with the same unfathomable expression. How in the world was she supposed to start a conversation with him? He had only spoken a few words, and those had been directed at Durga. The silence was not awkward, though…it was intimidating.
“Are you related to Durga in any way?” she asked tentatively.
Markii’s attention focused on her, but only for a moment. His eyes roamed the line of trees again.
“No,” he said.
“Oh.”
It was silent again. Kiethara was lost for any way to start a conversation; no new questions came to mind. Compared to Durga’s rapid chatter, Markii might as well have been mute.
Markii did not seem uncomfortable. There was, well, no change in his expression since the moment he had walked into her clearing. His posture was stiff, jaw tight, and eyes all too intense. She envied him for his ability—to make it impossible for anybody to guess what he was thinking. Aaron always knew everything and Gandador read her face like a book, anticipating her every move. Markii did not have that weakness.
He didn’t seem to have any weakness.
“Have you had your sword for very long?” she asked desperately, unable to stand the silence any longer.
“Long enough.”
Kiethara opened her mouth to respond, but then she shut it again. She really didn’t have a response to that. His voice was guarded. It was almost as if he meant that to be a threat.
Maybe he just wasn’t one for conversation.
Kiethara could feel the awkward embarrassment on her face, causing her to bite back a scowl. Compared to Markii, she felt like a fool. He just stood there, watching her flounder around with those intense, unrelenting eyes.
Trying not to take too much offense, Kiethara looked around her own clearing. Attempting to talk to Markii was like talking to herself. No wonder Durga was his companion, for she talked so much he never had the ability to get a word in…and it wasn’t like he had any opinion to interrupt her with.
“So…make yourself at home,” she said a bit scornfully, turning her back on him and walking towards her hammock. She regretted her tone as soon as she had spoken the words. She did not need to make another enemy. On one of the two trees supporting her hammock, she quickly grew two plump apples. She picked them both and then turned around. What would he do? She had a strong urge to figure out the answer.
She raised her hand and tossed it at him. With lightening reflexes he caught it—she watched him keenly as he stared at it for a moment. And then he looked up and inclined his head in thanks.
Kiethara and Markii ate in silence, but she felt a bit more relaxed now that she was doing something with her hands. So was he, even though he swallowed the apple in three bites and tossed the core before she had taken two.
He resumed the same demeanor, scanning the forest with his gray eyes. What could have happened to make him like this, she wondered.
What would make him so guarded?